


Mixed Signals

by NaiveDeviant



Category: Silicon Valley (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Lack of Communication, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 23:11:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11390385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaiveDeviant/pseuds/NaiveDeviant
Summary: Richard doesn't need Erlich to defend his honor. But he kind of likes it when he does.(Or, a Palo Alto housewife makes Richard cry and Erlich won't stand for that)





	Mixed Signals

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful fiancé for editing this and giving me feedback on characterization!

The loft bed wasn’t working for Richard. He had almost fallen out of it countless times. The ladder had given out on him, and it was nearly impossible to climb when drunk. Guilfoyle and Dinesh had even stolen the ladder in the middle of the night once. Worst of all, it was a complete mood-killer when Richard had women over (not that it happened often, but when it did the bed elicited reactions such as “how cute!” or “this reminds me of my childhood bed!”) He was long overdue for an upgrade.

Richard browsed Craigslist for something cheap and sturdy, looking wistfully at king-size bed frames as he scrolled. He would never be able to fit one of those in his tiny room. He finally settled on a simple, wooden twin frame, only a few miles away. He messaged the seller and arranged for a time to pick it up. 

“Hey, Erlich? Can I borrow the van this afternoon?” Richard asked. 

Erlich stirred his cereal thoughtfully. “Depends what you’re using it for. The breaks need replaced; I wouldn’t take it far.”

“I’m just picking up a bed I found on Craigslist. It’s only a few miles away,” Richard said, imagining the breaks giving out, coasting through an intersection, and getting t-boned by a truck. But it was a spectacular deal on a solid wood bed. Totally worth the risk. 

Erlich slammed his bowl down on the kitchen table. “Craigslist? You never know what kind of creeps you could meet! You could be sold into slavery! I’m coming with you. Besides, you’re not strong enough to carry a bed into the back of the van.”

“It’s some Palo Alto housewife selling her kid’s old bed!”

“Or _is_ it?”

“Her name is Candy Klukowizc! And I can so lift a kid’s bed-“

Guilfoyle cut him off with, “You struggled to lift a full gallon of milk last week,” which, unfortunately, was not untrue. 

A few hours later, Richard and Erlich pulled up in front of a Palo Alto mansion. It was modern - a series of blocks stacked next to and on top of each other – and glaringly white. 

“I bet this place has like, 11 bathrooms. Imagine shitting in a different bathroom every day for 11 days,” said Erlich.

“Yeah, it’s pretty impressive,” Richard agreed. 

Erlich nudged Richard in the ribs and flashed him a brilliant smile. “Hey, when Pied Piper makes us billions, we can get a place just like this.”

Richard wondered who he meant by “we.” Did he mean each of the team members would buy their own, separate mansions? Or they’d buy one together and own some kind of incubator/mansion/bachelor pad? Or did Erlich mean that he and Richard…well, he’d come back to that thought later. A woman, presumably Candy Klukowicz, was coming out to meet them. 

“Hi there! You must be Richard,” she said, extending a hand dripping with diamond and gemstone rings. Richard shook it as he looked her over. She was the picture of a Valley housewife, outfitted in athleisure attire and sporting ridiculously blonde hair in a high ponytail. 

“I’m Erlich Bachmann. I’m here to make sure you don’t sell him into slavery. And to lift the bed. Not much meat on these bones,” he said, pinching Richard’s bicep. 

Candy did not offer a handshake to Erlich. “Thanks for coming to take this off my hands. The bed is right inside the door. Come on in.” She led them into a cavernous room that could not simply be described as a foyer. The bed was just as advertised – solid wood and clearly well-constructed.

“Wow, this is great,” said Richard. 

“Is this for your child?” Candy asked, while looking between Richard and Erlich, trying to connect the dots, or determine if there were any dots to connect in the first place. Erlich chose this moment to wrap an arm around Richard’s shoulder and pull him in.

“No, this is for Richard. He’s finally ditching the loft bed!” 

“Great,” Candy murmured. “So, I know I asked for $100 on Craigslist, but it’s really well-made, as you can see. I was really hoping I could get $200.”

“Uh. But we agreed on $100. That – that’s what we agreed on,” Richard stammered. 

“I know, but that’s practically giving it away. I think $200 is perfectly fair.”

Erlich took a step toward Candy and thrust a finger at her face. “If you wanted $200, you should’ve asked for that before. You’re violating the unwritten rules of Craigslist. Maybe even some written ones!”

“Excuse me? I think it’s very reasonable-“ 

“Reasonable? Listen, you frappucino-guzzling, hybrid-driving witch. You’re gonna sell Richard that bed for 100 bucks.”

“No, I’m not. And that’s final,” said Candy, crossing her arms resolutely. 

“Not all of us can marry into money, sweetheart,” continued Erlich.

“Erlich, please shut up,” Richard begged.

“I bet you fuck your Soul Cycle instructor!”

Candy’s face contorted with a mixture of shock, disgust, and rage. “Get out right now, or I’m calling the police!” she yelled. 

Erlich and Richard didn’t have to be told twice. “Rich bitch,” Erlich spat, slamming the car door for effect. He hit the gas and sped away.

Richard slumped down in the passenger seat, hands over his face. He was not going to cry. He was _not_ going to fucking cry.

“Richard, are you crying?” Erlich didn’t quite sound concerned, but he didn’t sound rude or exasperated, either. Richard turned his face to look out the passenger window. “I could go back and fuck her up, you know.”

“No, don’t worry about it. There are other beds out there.”

“She made you cry. The last time someone made you cry I punched a kid for you.”

“No, _you_ made me cry, Erlich. You’re so fucking embarrassing sometimes. You don’t need to defend my honor like that.”

They sat in silence for the rest of the drive. Only when they pulled into the driveway did Erlich speak. “Okay, Richard. Look at me.” Richard looked up and saw Erlich’s best impression of remorse. “I got a little carried away, I admit. But she was being unreasonable, and we weren’t leaving with that fucking bed anyway. And did you see the look on her face? No one has even spoken to her like that! It was incredible!”

That elicited a laugh from Richard. “Yeah, okay, that was pretty funny.” The more he thought about how absurd the incident was, the harder he laughed. He wiped away a few tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. 

“Are you still crying?”

“I’m crying because I’m laughing so hard! I can’t believe you did that for me.”

“Hey, is there anything I wouldn’t do for you?”

And that made Richard feel really good. Light. Giddy. To know that Erlich had his back, unconditionally. 

“So, are you saying that you like when I defend you, or you want me to back off?” asked Erlich.

“Um. I don’t know. Both?”

Erlich sighed and shook his head, obviously disappointed. “You can’t have it both ways, Richard.”

***

Later, Richard grabbed his laptop and re-started his search for a bed. Maybe he’d avoid Craigslist this time, he thought. Buy a bed from a real furniture store or something. He became so absorbed in his search that he didn’t hear when Erlich came through the front door, beaming. “I went back and got you the bed,” he announced to the room.

Richard jumped up from his desk. “What? Seriously? Should I be hugging you, or calling the cops?”

“Eh…”

Richard’s stomach lurched. “What did you do?”

“Detective work. Klukowizc is not a common surname. It sounded vaguely familiar. As it turns out, her husband is the DA. And I just happened to have some information on him that his wife wouldn’t want to get out, so-“

“I bet he found him on Grindr,” Guilfoyle offered.

“Shut the fuck up and let me finish! And did you hack my phone?”

“Nope. Just picked it up and looked at it.” 

“You already finished,” said Dinesh. “You blackmailed her for a bed. That’s fucked up.”

“That is seriously fucked up. The Prince of Darkness looks upon you favorably,” said Guilfoyle.

Jared piped up with, “Although I can’t condone criminal activity, I must admit it is a touching gesture.”

“It’s not the first time I’ve committed a crime for Richard,” said Erlich, the very picture of smugness and pride. “And it probably won’t be the last.”

Richard was nothing short of flabbergasted. “I don’t want you to commit crimes for me! We literally just had this conversation a few hours ago. You don’t need to defend my honor! I can handle things!”

“Really? Can you? You were moved to tears by a housewife!”

“Please shut up!” Richard pleaded. 

Erlich crossed his arms; narrowed his eyes; tilted his chin defiantly. “Fuckin’ make me shut up.”

Richard knew what he meant – he wanted Richard to ream him out, or punch him in the face. But for just a moment, Richard had an image of Erlich on his knees, and it broke his will to fight. Richard shook his head, like he was clearing the image from an Etch-a-Sketch. “No,” he finally said. “It’s okay. Thanks for getting the bed.”

Erlich extended a hand. “C’mon, truce. Let’s go get that old bed out on the sidewalk and the new one in your room.”

Richard didn’t take his hand, but he followed him.

That night, Richard slept better than he had in years. 

***

The next morning, feeling unusually well-rested, Richard woke up early enough to watch the sunrise while lounging on the pool deck. It had been awhile since he’d done that. 

He went to the kitchen, brewed coffee, and poured himself a mug. He burned his tongue on the first, overeager sip and set it back on the counter to cool off. Erlich came plodding in, wearing one of his ridiculous kimonos. “Sleep well?” he asked.

“Yeah, thanks.”

And then Erlich approached him slowly until he had Richard backed against the counter. He leaned in close enough that Richard could feel his breath. He smelled like ramen – the shrimp flavor, specifically. Did he not brush his teeth after dinner? Or did his morning breath always smell like this? Gross. Richard tried to form some words to tell him to back off, to move. But then Erlich wedged a thick thigh between Richard’s legs, keeping him firmly against the counter.

“I think you like it when I stick up for you,” said Erlich, almost in a low growl. “But I’m not a fuckin’ mind-reader; you need to tell me that. I can’t keep guessing what you want from me. There are some things I can’t guess.” He studied Richard’s face intently for a few moments before backing up. “Do you get what I’m saying? Don’t give me mixed signals. Tell me what you want.”

Richard nodded. His heart was beating so fast he could barely think. He wasn’t able to form words. Not quite yet.

Erlich reached behind Richard and snatched his cup of coffee. Richard didn’t protest. Erlich sipped and watched Richard’s face and waited. 

"Your move, Richard."

Finally, Richard made up his mind.


End file.
